Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 8 eBook

And laugh at me if thou wilt; but it is true that,
every time I approach her, I cannot but look upon
her as one just entering into a companionship with
saints and angels. This thought so wholly possessed
me, that I could not help begging, as I went away,
her prayers and her blessing, with the reverence due
to an angel.

In the evening, she was so low and weak, that I took
my leave of her in less than a quarter of an hour.
I went directly home. Where, to the pleasure
and wonder of my cousin and her family, I now pass
many honest evenings: which they impute to your
being out of town.

I shall dispatch my packet to-morrow morning early
by my own servant, to make thee amends for the suspense
I must have kept thee in: thou’lt thank
me for that, I hope; but wilt not, I am sure, for sending
thy servant back without a letter.

I long for the particulars of the conversation between
you and Mr. Morden; the lady, as I have hinted, is
full of apprehensions about it. Send me back
this packet when perused; for I have not had either
time or patience to take a copy of it. And I
beseech you enable me to make good my engagements
to the poor lady that you will not invade her again.

LETTER XXXVIII

Mr. Belford, toRobertLovelace,
Esq. Wednesday, Aug. 30.

I have a conversation to give you that passed between
this admirable lady and Dr. H. which will furnish
a new instance of the calmness and serenity with which
she can talk of death, and prepare for it, as if it
were an occurrence as familiar to her as dressing
and undressing.

As soon as I had dispatched my servant to you with
my letters of the 26th, 28th, and yesterday the 29th,
I went to pay my duty to her, and had the pleasure
to find her, after a tolerable night, pretty lively
and cheerful. She was but just returned from
her usual devotions; and Doctor H. alighted as she
entered the door.

After inquiring how she did, and hearing her complaints
of shortness of breath, (which she attributed to inward
decay, precipitated by her late harasses, as well
from her friends as from you,) he was for advising
her to go into the air.

What will that do for me? said she: tell me truly,
good Sir, with a cheerful aspect, (you know you cannot
disturb me by it,) whether now you do not put on the
true physician; and despairing that any thing in medicine
will help me, advise me to the air, as the last resource?—­Can
you think the air will avail in such a malady as mine?

He was silent.

I ask, said she, because my friends (who will possibly
some time hence inquire after the means I used for
my recovery) may be satisfied that I omitted nothing
which so worthy and skilful a physician prescribed?

The air, Madam, may possibly help the difficulty of
breathing, which has so lately attacked you.